It wasn’t challenging to find Henry; he’d obviously planned on the deck being crowded, and had secured a position early (though Georgiana noted that at least two other men had assembled something similar, and hoped her parents would not suspect the dubious connection), his tripod already mounted, his hand cranking as he mouthed the lyrics to Daisy, Give Me Your Answer, Do.
“There’s Henry!” cried Cecilia, and Georgiana had to fight not to restrain her sister physically.
“And William will acquaint us,” Georgiana replied. “As he’s the gentleman in this situation, he will take charge. You’re forgetting your place, Celia, and if you’re not careful, it will lead to your ruin.”
“Stop being so horrid, Georgiana.”
“I’m not trying to,” Georgiana said, grabbing her sister’s elbow. She had to make her sister see reason, to see how much she could lose so easily, so quickly. “Honestly, Celia, I’m not. I’m worried for you. I don’t see how this can end favourably for you, and I’m concerned that you are not taking the situation seriously enough. I fear that you are irrepressible and that a shipboard flirtation could hurt your chances with Thomas, and while it’s not love, he is a good match. I fear for you. I fear that Henry may not reciprocate, or if he does, you may not like where your future with him may take you.”
“You didn’t feel that way about William! You never questioned his honour, nor his intentions!” Cecilia accused, her face betraying her emotions. She’s got to learn to become more perfunctory, Georgiana mused. Cecilia’s empathetic nature would likely land her in trouble, especially with a face that evinced all her inner feelings.
“Yes, and it almost cost me dearly, Cecilia,” hissed Georgiana, lowering her voice in attempt to deflect attention from them. “It’s because of what I went through that I’m refusing to be lackadaisical about your situation, Celia. It’s because I know what destiny awaits you if you’re resolved to take this on. I had to be prepared to lose my family, even you, to be with William. That was a decision that took months to be certain of.”
William, feeling the undeniable growing tension between the sisters – for Georgiana, she feared her sister was woefully underprepared; for Cecilia, there seemed to be fury at her sister’s hypocrisy – decided he’d take the time to introduce himself to Henry. “My apologies, ladies, but I believe the purpose of this is for me to introduce myself to Mr Henry. Please excuse me.” He bowed, hat removed, before he turned on his heel, his black top hat firmly placed back on his head.
“Why are you so determined to ruin this?” Celia’s chin wobbled, and Georgiana fought to keep her composure.
“I’m not, Celia, please believe me. You have my support. You will always have my support. We’re sisters, you and I. I love you with all my heart and soul, and we’re English, so you know that isn’t easy for a person to say. I’m saying this out of love.”
“No, you’re saying it out of fear,” retorted Cecilia. The comment stung Georgiana a little; there was some truth to her sister’s words. Like Maggie Brown, Cecilia was vociferous.
At the sight of William beckoning them, Georgiana sighed, resigning herself to being a mere catalyst in her sister’s fate, before they both linked arms, walking across the wooden boat deck to join Henry.
Henry, unlike William, had already removed his black-grey bowler hat after William approached him, and both men bowed slightly when the ladies arrived. William had taken to leaning against the white railing. Georgiana dipped her head; she found his removal of his hat – signifying his inferior position to her husband – as well his formal greeting admirable. She hadn’t expected him to be so refined; she was surprised to find him a man who seemed accustomed to the expectations of the British elite. Better for him to know his place, Georgiana felt. If he didn’t know it, others would remind him of it.
“Georgiana, this is Mr Henry Hamilton, a cine photographer. Mr Hamilton, this is my wife, Lady Georgiana, and her youngest sister, Lady Cecilia, whom I believe you have already become acquainted with.”
Georgiana smiled again, while Cecilia jumped in enthusiastically, “I don’t know if William has mentioned it or not, but we’re planning to dine –”
“Cecilia.” Cecilia immediately silenced herself, knowing that her demeanour was ill-fitting. Georgiana wanted to remind her sister that all she had was her reputation and good name, and she would be tarnished goods if she lost them, but she bit her tongue. Her sister appeared to have received the message through the sharpness of Georgiana’s tone. It seemed to Georgiana that while Henry Hamilton seemed to be aware of his lowly status, Cecilia was yet to remember hers.
“Hello, Mr Hamilton,” Georgiana introduced herself stiffly, feeling more uncomfortable than she had previously; it was evident by her sister’s reaction that this was more than a fascination.
Georgiana was sure her sister was merely flighty and bored; she did not want to move to America, making her dysphoria known. In her sister’s defence, Georgiana could not understand why anyone would willingly move to one of the old colonies, nor why her parents were so insistent on such a match. Georgiana was by and sure that her sister could easily find someone titled and of more considerable influence in England than they would in the Americas, but her father seemed confident and prideful of the match. She reasoned that it must be wretched, for Cecilia, to be leaving everything she had ever known, for a man she certainly did not love. Cecilia cared for Thomas, yes, but in a way that sisters and brothers seemed to, not the way lovers did.
Yet, watching the way her sister’s eyes flung open, her cheeks dimpled with happiness, a crimson blush spreading across her lightly freckled pale face, she knew it would not be an easy passage. It was not a short-lived dalliance that Cecilia would happily push to the side once arriving in New York, regaining her sense of rationality; no, she was behaving the way Georgiana had when she’d met William.
Georgiana’s dance card had been full, with partners arranging weeks in advance, when she had spied William. She’d asked him to dance, something that caught censure of all those in attendance as his name wasn’t marked on her dance card and that defied Edwardian etiquette, but she hadn’t cared that it was improper. She hadn’t cared that her parents would be furious with her, and she hadn’t cared when they lectured her about her fallible reputation, and that the higher someone was, the easier it was to fall. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, her mother had warned.
Yet, all she’d thought of was William; the way he looked at her, held her, swung her. The way he’d talked, fall of passion and interest, and the way he listened to her, as if he wasn’t just hearing her, but listening to her – had immediately captured her heart. From that first moment, that very first dance, she knew she was his.
Georgiana didn’t think she’d ever be able to sleep or eat or have a conversation without a broad grin plastered to her face, even when her parents had forbidden any further courtship, pushing her towards the Duke of Carlington, an older man that, while handsome, held no interest for Georgiana. He spoke a lot about cricket, a sport Georgiana found decidedly boring, and he’d spoken of himself. The Duke of Carlington had not once thought to ask Georgiana who she was, or what she cared for. Anything Georgiana relayed to him, he immediately forgot; he may have been interested in Georgiana’s beauty, and perhaps what her reputation might grant him, but he had no care for Georgiana as a person. William, on the other hand, did; he gazed at her in awe, as if she were an angel blessed from God.
And now Georgiana recognised the gait, the excitement, the expression: Her baby sister was in love, whether it was convenient or not, which love seldom was. Whether it was reasonable or logical – though Georgiana was certain neither applied to love – her sister, her beloved, naïve, desperately innocent, baby sister, had fallen head-over-heels in love with a common camera man.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr Hamilton. Celia’s told me a great deal about your camera and what you do. I have to admit, the idea of moving pictures is of interest to me.” Georgiana sto
od firmly, holding her white-gloved hands in front of her, as she introduced herself to the man that had stolen her sister’s heart. She tried weighing him up, estimating whether the man in front of her was a gentleman or not. Men, regardless of status, were capable of dressing up as gentlemen.
That didn’t necessarily always correspond with said men behaving gentlemanly.
Henry bowed again, smiling, “That’s very generous of your sister, Lady Georgiana, though I’m not sure I’m worthy of anything that may warrant a conversation.”
“Au contraire, it would appear you are mistaken. You’ve had the entire family’s tongues wagging at dinner with your contraption. Though it seems you are not alone in your hobby.” Georgiana made a pointed glance to the other two men who had set up their photography equipment, with one appearing to be more interested in recording his wife – Georgiana did not recognise the woman, but she could tell by the couple’s interactions that, like she and William, they were newlywed; the other man was more interested in the busy Queenstown harbour.
Henry, plainly ignoring Georgiana’s jibe, smiled, stealing a glance at Cecilia, who was grinning foolishly. Georgiana tried not to feel too stiffly about her sister’s emotive face; she knew how scandalous it was for her to be so openly countenanced.
“Pray tell us, what does this marvellous machine do, Mr Henry?” interrupted William, always the peacemaker, and already possessed the ability to read his wife’s mind.
Dismissing herself from the conversation, Georgiana turned her attention to both the tender ships and the ships carrying vendors; there appeared to be mostly steerage passengers on board the tenders – though she hadn’t expected much in the way of first and second class passengers embarking in Queenstown – but the vendors were carrying exquisite laces and jewels. She was eager to explore, eyeing a few things – including a beautiful ivory shawl – that she wouldn’t mind adding to her wardrobe.
Pleased that her husband was engaged in conversation with Henry, Georgiana turned to her sister.
“Are you certain this is something you wish to pursue, Celia?” murmured Georgiana. “Everyone will know if you are not careful. You appear to be incapable of having an emotion without expressing it, especially in the presence of Mr Henry. I’m not entirely sure any of this is wise.”
“Please, Georgie,” Cecilia said, gently grabbing her sister’s hand. The gesture, so publicly intimate, caught her off guard and she found herself relenting to her sister’s pleas.
“A promise is a promise,” she said. “William, darling, I’d like to look at some of the vendors. Look at that beautiful lace shawl! I’ll be the envy of the entire voyage. Purchase it for me, will you?” William nodded, and joined Jack Astor, whose wife had undoubtedly asked for a similar favour. Georgiana loved how Jack doted on his wife; the two were smitten with each other. Georgiana couldn’t help but hear the whispers that followed them; they seemed to be the very interest of the entire cruise, and she could not help but feel that the Astors were poorly treated by others solely for the crime of loving each other so freely. “Mr Hamilton, after my husband has finished making his purchase, would you like to join Lady Cecilia and us in the Verandah Café for some light refreshments? I believe William is eager to hear more about this apparatus, among other things.”
Henry bowed again, smiling once more. “I would be honoured, Lady Georgiana, and I am gracious to be your willing servant.” Cecilia rolled her eyes as William sauntered off, Henry trailing behind him, and immediately began giggling.
“Your willing servant?” Georgiana scoffed and Cecilia flushed lightly.
“He means well,” Cecilia defended. “He’s trying to impress.”
“Perhaps he’s trying to impress a little too much. It was pathetic. Even you rolled your eyes.”
“Because it was a touch over-the-top. Pray, is that a terrible thing? He cares. If he’s going to this effort, he cares. Do you really think caring too much equals ‘pathetic’? If so, I think it’s you who’s pathetic, Georgie. What matters is that he cares enough to want to please you, to press upon you a favourable opinion. Something that he’s likely doing for me, because he certainly wouldn’t wish to befriend you. Ought that not matter more?”
Georgiana paused, considering her sister’s words; they were more accurate than she’d care to admit. She wanted her sister to be happy, but she wasn’t entirely sure her happiness could be granted by a young Russian man with no title. It wasn’t because she thought her sister was shallow or meek; but rather, the aggravation wrought by their family would be impossible to endure.
“The ship docks in less than a week.”
“And?”
“Celia, I say this with the utmost love and adoration that you must know I have for you. We’ve always been close, have we not?”
“That sounds like you’re building an excuse, Georgie, instead of adhering to the promise you made.”
Georgiana ignored Cecilia and continued. “You know that an arrangement between you and Thomas is as good as an engagement, and in our society, we avoid scandals, you know this.”
“What’s your point, other than to be hypercritical?”
Georgiana sighed; it wasn’t that Cecilia didn’t have a point; it was that the situations presented were entirely different. William, while being a lower position than Georgiana’s family, was still a titled, wealthy and respectable genteel man, with a Viscounty. While Henry appeared to be both honourable and cultured, he did not appear to possess the credentials her parents would expect; if they had threatened Georgiana with disownership, they would not settle for less with their youngest.
Nor would they take lightly the idea of a silly romance developing onboard a ship, while sailing towards Cecilia’s betrothed. Her father would see it as a mark against him, and their mother would likely be disheartened that her youngest had been swayed so. She would assume the young gentleman had taken advantage of Cecilia’s good-nature, and thus, would likely never approve of such a match. Her mother, though kind-hearted in the way their father was not, was still a product of her generation.
“I don’t mean to be,” Georgiana relented, taking a slightly softer tone. “It’s that we arrive in New York on Wednesday. Despite the delay in Southampton, everyone is already talking about the possibility of an earlier arrival. The Vanderbilts will be waiting for you, as will Thomas. Both Papa and the Vanderbilts have invested a lot into this mutually beneficial arrangement, and they will not be pleased to hear you have become besotted with a passenger you’ll likely never see again. What do you expect will happen, Celia? When we make port? Do you earnestly expect Henry to be by your side? Has he made declarations or promises? Because if not, you’re living in a fallacy, hoping it will work out well. You’re hoping for a fairy tale, when this isn’t Cinderella, Celia. Have you thought about what everyone will say? What you will say to our parents? Are you certain you can contend with the idea that, if you move forward with this, they’ll never see or speak to you again? Ever? That Eliana might choose not to as well? That others within the family may shun you, too? Aunts and uncles and cousins you don’t think you care for, until they decide they no longer wish to. Can you handle that? Watch Madeleine, right now. Listen to the whispers that surround her. They’re following her and Jack and have been since they struck up a courtship. She’s four months pregnant, and still they shun the couple, as if they’ve made a sacrilegious insult. Could you handle whispers following you, everywhere you go? Maybe for the rest of your life? And if the papers write about you – which you know they will, those gossip rags are awfully full with trite – can you handle what they say, however unkind they may be?”
“I don’t know,” Cecilia admitted, biting her lower lip and scrunching up her large nose in befuddlement. “It’s not like I’ve planned anything, Georgie. He’s just … interesting. Thomas is lovely, in his letters, but there’s no passion. Am I wrong for seeking what you have with William?” Her sister looked at her, tears welling in blue-grey eyes. Georgiana could not hel
p but wonder if she was aware that her eyes, when sad, always had a tint of green added to them.
Georgiana softened. “Of course not,” she said. “I don’t expect you to have the answers yet, my darling. I don’t expect you to know in your heart what is true, and what you should decide. But you need to be aware of the consequences, the very real, tangible consequences, of which I can count the ways. A week’s not a very long course, and we’re not untouchable. You know better than most that the thrones on which we sit are precarious, with many willing to tear us down. You must be aware that the wrong person on board this ship – of which many are friends and acquaintances of Mama and Papa – are apt scandalmongers. They’ll seize any chance to break you. You’ve already appeared by Mr Hamilton’s side unaccompanied. I’m surprised Mama hasn’t learnt of it yet. It’s a wonder you weren’t seen by anyone.”
Cecilia looked worried, though Georgiana could not understand why. Surely her sister had not spent further time alone with Henry, without telling her? No, Georgiana told herself firmly. Even Celia would not be so reckless to meet with him privately. She would not be so bold. “Can’t I have a week where I’m not constrained? I’m not asking for much, Georgie. I’m asking for a chance at freedom, to make my own choices. I won’t besmirch the family name. I shan’t do anything that isn’t proper of a lady of high class, I swear it, Georgie. I won’t do anything you or Eliana haven’t done or didn’t do.”
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